Chapter 11

The dry wood offered the perfect kindling, instantly setting ablaze. Torrent flames rose higher and higher towards the heavens, their light vibrant against the serene darkness. The crackling and snapping of the wooden planks forged a haunting melody accompanied only by the whoosh of the cool night air as it met the scorching heat escaping the pyre.

The figure of a stunned Sam lay prostrate on the floor, his eyes wide, bulging, as he inhaled rapidly, forcing more of the thick smoke into his lungs. The effect sent him into a hacking cough, his body contorting in the effort to expel the suffocating black. The small amount of pure air, he had left, had exited immediately when his body had connected with the floor.

Sam had felt the surge of flame rush over him seconds later and then the blast of hot air as they rolled back. He'd thought for a moment it was over, that the whole nightmare with Kingston had been extinguished in that instant, and would remain nothing but a horrid memory he would do his best to push away and maybe, one-day, manage to forget entirely. Sam had heard Kingston's agonizing wail, and relished in its sound. He hadn't failed his brother; he'd saved Dean just like he'd said he would. He'd finished the text, though his aching chest and raw constricted throat pleaded for rest he'd pressed on, sucked up the pain like only a Winchester could, and sent the bastard back to the abyss where it belonged. Everything within him thought it over, the battle won, the choking smoke would fade and yield a new dawn, a new day for him and his brother to savor.

But he was wrong. If his starving lungs would've allowed Sam would have screamed, a blood-curling, enraged scream at Fate's cruel hand. His darting eyes surveyed the havoc the wave of fire had created. The red and yellow flickering covered the surrounding walls devouring them into ash, and small pockets of new orange light littered the floor as the glowing embers from the crumbling walls rained down upon it. Their lingering threat of forming new strains of raging angry light issued Sam into a state of sheer terror, and he swung his head side to side quickly scanning the room for an exit. His fear-filled eyes caught glimpse of a collapsed figure a few feet away, and his strained voice filled the air, as he crawled towards it.

"D-dean?" Sam whimpered, upon approaching the still form, a bloody gash adorning the pale face from where it had met the uprooted floorboard. Receiving no reply, no acknowledgement, Sam shifted into a seating position as brought his hand to his brother's shoulders shaking him gently, but the motion intensified when still no answer was given. "D-dean? C'mon man."

A low murmur reached Sam's ears, and his eyes watered as the hazel eyes cracked open and stared back at him.

"S-sammy? Y-you okay?" Dean gasped, wincing as he worked to sit upright, and fingered the wound on his head.

"Yeah." Sam breathed "We ne-need to g-go n-now."

"K-kingston?"

"I-it's ok. I f-finished."

"Good, S-sammy." Dean muttered, surveying the growing destruction before him, his confusion due to the fall disintegrating, replaced by a severe dread of the situation. He lowered himself back to the ground in an army-crawl position and motioned for Sam to do the same. "W-we ha—have t-to st-stay l-low."

Sam merely nodded that he understood and complied as quickly as he could. Once lowered into a mirror stance of the elder, he thought he caught sight of a stream of light running beneath the thick shroud of smoke. He tapped his brother's shoulder regaining his attention, and pointed towards it. Dean leaned in close to Sam and a smirk lightly flashed across his face.

"T-the d-d-door." Dean heaved, and then crawled back away from the younger. Fear claimed Sam, but fled when his brother's strong grip held onto the leg of his jeans. The youngest turned his head back to look at Dean, who locked eyes with him and ordered "G-go."

The distance was longer than their tired spent bodies had anticipated, drawn out by the billowing smoke and the flames licking at their heels. The slight quivering of limbs had turned into uncontrollable shakes as they forced their arms to edge them forward. Both brothers were drenched in sweat, their clothes clinging tightly to their bodies, hair plastered to their heads. The cut along Dean's forehead continued to drip blood, and he let it flow freely now, ceasing the action of swiping it away because to do so wasted precious energy. His hold on his brother was taking most of it as it was, but he adamantly refused to let Sam go. He wasn't going to lose him, not like this.

The brother's remained silent, for the simple fact that talking required more air, air that was nonexistent. It didn't faze them; if it did anything it strengthened their connection, a single look in the other's direction spoke volumes. A steady rhythm emerged in their advancement; first Sam would slide, then Dean, and back to Sam. They became so immersed in the routine, the creaking and moaning of the rapidly deteriorating roof nearly escaped their ears.

Sam perked his head up at the sound and shot a frantic look at Dean, who tilted his head, urging him on again. Shards of broken wood and ash began to pour heavily down on them, seeping into their eyes and mouth. Sam stopped short as another hacking cough overtook him and Dean tugged his pant leg to force him onward, the groan from the ceiling beams echoing in his ears. His worse fear was confirmed when a sickening crack resonated signaling the breaking loose of the main beam.

Gravity propelled the rotted wood to the ground with a force that would rival that of the gods. Upon impact the beam shattered into thousands of sharp enflamed pieces that fell like knives against the brother's skin tearing into the sore flesh. Dean felt the slice of one in his arm and yelped in pain, a pain that escalated when another chunk of the caving roof landed inches from his arm, splitting, pieces jutting into his extended arm once again. Dean jerked his arm back reflexively, bringing the damaged limb to his chest, in the process losing his connection to Sam.

The very moment the contact was broken Sam noticed, the pain radiating from the fiery darts aligned down his body paled in comparison to the thought of the elder's abandonment.

"D-dean? W-wh-?"

"K-keep g-going S-sam. I-I'm r-right b-be-behind y-you. D-don't s-stop. D-don't." Dean panted, forcing himself forward a little to prove his point.

Sam obeyed the command, and continued onward. His breath hitching as he felt the cold breeze brush across his face. Sam could hear the loud thud of falling wood growing more and more frequent. He shot a look over his shoulder and could barely make out his brother's form through the black veil, he hesitated slightly before remembering an order is an order and Dean would give him a serious ass-whooping if he even appeared to be waiting on the elder.

"W-we m-made it D-dean! W-we m-made it!" He called out over his shoulder, relief and joy in their escape giving his weak voice the appearance of strength. The beginnings of a pinkish red morning sky greeted Sam as he slid his body over the threshold, and jerkily pulled himself to his feet. He stumbled out into the hedged in area, collapsing once again greedily drawing in breaths of clean air, and waited, waited for his brother's exile from the inferno, for Dean to join him in taking in the blessed gift.

Minutes passed, and a nagging thought in the back of his mind pushed itself forward. Sam lifted his head from the ground and gazed back into the gaping hole he'd found escape in, his forehead etched with growing concern at the absence of his brother's form moving through it. A thundering clamor rung in his ears, and the breath that he'd regained was sucked away once more. Sam's face contorted in horror as he watched the cabin appear to quake as what remained of the ravaged roof came free, plummeting into the cabin.

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Dean bit his lip, stifling a small cry, as he shifted his weight onto his bloodied arm. The movement forced him to come to a halt, dropping his head and clenching his jaw against the pain. The effect that should be dulled by adrenaline and fear was only intensifying, and his body just didn't want to move anymore. He lolled his head back up, and caught sight of Sam's long legs dragging across the floor.

He'd told Sam to go, to get out. Dean hadn't wanted to release Sam, and the action had been purely instinctive, but at the same time Dean knew that both their bodies were slowly wearing out and for Sam to even try to drag his weight would surely kill them both. And that was unacceptable. Sam was the one thing in Dean's life that was not expendable. As much as he loved his tapes, his life, his Impala, and any other trivial thing he owned and guarded, he'd gladly offer them up to save the younger. He'd made the decision to sacrifice his existence for his brother a little over twenty-two years ago and he wasn't going to back out just because stupid fire was so intent on claiming him.

Still, the pain actually letting Sam go could've very well paralyzed him. Dean could remember countless times Sam had begged for him to just let him go—just go across the street and play, just walk to school alone instead of having big brother drop him off, just let him fight his own battles, just let him leave 'cause that's all he wanted was to leave. It'd always bothered Dean that his brother even remotely thought of himself as luggage. And while Sam swore he didn't, Dean saw it in his eyes everyday. And each time Sam's plea cut the space between them, they pierced his heart. Dean questioned many a time if Sam even knew the damage his words had on him, but then he'd remember that he was never one let on, so how could he?

The sound of his brother's tired voice reached him. The youngest informing they'd made it. Dean smiled, a sad smile, and allowed his head to rest once again on the heated floor. His breath came in short gasps, but he knew it would soon be over. Sam was safe, he'd get that normal life he'd always wanted, he'd become a top-notch lawyer, get married, have kids, everything that reflected a normal existence. For all Sam would have, Dean was neither jealous nor envious, for in his mind, he also was getting what he'd always wanted. He was going to see his mom, to spend time with her, to talk with her, and also meet the girl his brother spoke of with the utmost love and respect. Dean didn't want it any other way.

The sickening crack overhead seemed but a whisper and Dean worked to curl himself up to lessen the anticipated pain. But the torment furthered by the fall of heavy wood was nothing more than a dull ache to his depleting body. He was tired, so tired, and sleep had never sounded so good. He closed his eyes, welcoming it and willed his end.

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Ok, ok! Dont panic. More to come I swear. And uh...lemme just say i am extremely proud of myself for posting before fri. Also, there was POV shifts in this chapter so if you guys could lemme know if that worked or not...or whether it confused you or not that would be great! Hmm...what else? oh yeah, lemme know what you thought and I'll post more when i can!